


Penguins Huddle Together When They're Cold, People Don't

by deakystoast_georgesbiscusts



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, John hates Paul, M/M, Paul hates John, What else do I have to say?, john is just trying to get through life, paul is stubborn, the air conditioning works TOO well, theyre idiots, theyre on a business trip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23373193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deakystoast_georgesbiscusts/pseuds/deakystoast_georgesbiscusts
Summary: John and Paul are work associates who hate each other. They're forced on a business trip together.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 18
Kudos: 96





	1. I don't care if you freeze, Lennon.

Paul huffed and slid further down in the passenger seat. John sighed and kept his eyes on the road.  
"Listen, mate-" John tried.  
"I'm not your mate," he grumbled, looking out his window.  
John hit his head against the wheel, "It's a week! Two at most! And we're both getting paid."  
"They couldn't have sent someone else on this business trip? It had to be you?"  
John laughed drily, "I've been thinking the same thing. Why did they send me with such an annoying, pompous, snarky, asshole?"  
Paul turned and looked directly in John's eyes as he put his headphones in.  
"My point stands," John muttered. He glanced back at Paul, who was leaning his dark head of hair against the car window.  
He grinned and turned on the car radio, which was hooked up to his phone. The Who's 'Pinball Wizard' came blaring from the speakers. John would've been lying if he said he hadn't sang and danced along to the whole song.  
Paul would've been lying if he said he hasn't watched the whole thing happen.  
***  
"McCartney..." John whispered, shaking the man awake, "McCartney, wake up, we're here."  
Paul shifted with a small groan. His huge eyes flickered open sleepily. His gaze hardened as soon as he saw the older man standing over him.  
"Get offa me, you wanker," he grunted, pushing John's face. John stuck his tongue out at Paul as he got out of the car.

John pulled both of their bags out of the trunk. Paul snatched his from John and glared at him,  
"I can get it myself." John held up his hands in mock surrender as they walked into the hotel.  
"Hey! We're just checking in," John told the woman at the front desk, "We're here on a business trip." (A/N I am legit completely clueless about how this works, cause I'm not even out of high school yet. Sorry.)  
The woman nodded and handed John the key and a pamphlet, "Room 469."  
John smirked at Paul, "Nice!"  
Paul rolled his eyes and grabbed a key from John's hand, giving a polite nod to the woman.  
"C'mon, Lennon," he said gruffly, jamming his thumb into the up button on the elevator. "I still can't believe Mr Epstein is making us share a room," he grumbled.  
"Well, Brian is big on this thing called budgeting," John enunciated the word slowly, as though he was speaking to a child. I might as well be, he thought.  
"Did you just refer to Mr. Epstein as Brian?" Paul looked taken aback.  
"Yeah, it's called a name, you might've heard of it?" Paul muttered something under his breath as they sailed up to the fourth floor.  
"What was that?" John asked.  
Paul glared at him, "I said you're a childish idiot who should be fired."  
John put a mocking hand over his heart, "Wow, I'm-I'm hurt. I don't know if I'll ever recover from such cruel words. Honestly, though, did I ask?"  
Paul's pale cheeks turned a rosy colour as he glared harshly at the floor. The elevator opened. They walked out. Paul pushed John aside on 'accident', as he made his way to their room. He opened the door.  
"Oh, fuck no." Paul's huge, doe eyes somehow got huger.  
"What?"  
Paul gasped as if he had been injured, "See for yourself." John scanned the room; bathroom, check; TV, check; couch, check; two beds, twin sized, but check any way.  
"Everything's fine. What's wrong?"  
"The walls are BURNT ORANGE with BEIGE and LIME GREEN STRIPES, Lennon. THAT IS WHAT'S WRONG!" John rolled his eyes with a small laugh, bringing his stuff into the room.  
"You're a drama queen, that's what's wrong, Macca."  
Paul wrinkled his nose, "Don't call me that."  
"Drama queen or Macca?" John joked, flopping onto the nearest bed.  
"Both."  
John chuckled slightly.  
"When do we get to leave?" Paul groaned, sitting on his strangely small bed.  
"We get to leave as soon as that library is open and we interview the people."  
"Why is it such a big deal?"  
John shrugged, flinging his socks and shoes at the wall.  
"That's disgusting."  
"No it's not, 'm letting my feet breathe," John defended.  
"You are a vile person." John grinned at him.

They took turns changing in the bathroom, after John had started taking off his shirt and a very flustered Paul had practically shoved him into the small room.  
"Why is it so cold in here?" Paul demanded, shivering in his tee shirt and shorts.  
"I haven't got a clue, but I think the A/C is broken," John told him, fiddling with the dial, "Why does this still exist? This isn't the eighties!"  
Paul had wrapped himself in every blanket in the hotel room, but was somehow still shivering.  
"What, do you want me to freeze?"  
Paul poked his head out of his den, "If it means I'm warm, yes. Yes I do."  
"Y'know, penguins huddle together when it's cold, and I'm a human radiator-"  
Paul cut him off, "I don't care if you freeze, Lennon. I'm not sharing."


	2. Chapter 2

John lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling and shivering. He curled himself into a ball underneath his one thin quilt. Meanwhile, Paul was in his pile of blankets and was still freezing.  
Why didn't he just accept my offer to huddle together like penguins? John thought as his teeth chattered. He glared at Paul, who was covered head to toe in thick layers of fabric.  
"Don't look at me like that!" Paul exclaimed, "It's not my fault you didn't think to grab any blanket you could find!"  
"Well, I tried to fix the air conditioning while you stood back and did nothing!" John retorted, sitting up and glaring at Paul further.  
Paul huffed and stepped off the bed, taking his blankets with him.  
"Here." He shoved half of his pile at John's face. The man stared at him in awe.  
"If you don't want them, I'm taking them back!"  
"No! No, I want them. It's just... I didn't know such a asshole could do something like this." John swore he saw Paul grin in the darkness. Paul's shadowy figure stalked back to his own bed. At least John was a little bit warmer.  
Why was Paul being nice to him? That's not possible. They hate each other. (John was 90% sure that that's why Brian- sorry, Mr Epstein- sent them together).

Thoughts spiralled around John's head, ensuring that he wasn't going to be able to sleep.  
Two things about John Winston Lennon: he hates the dark with a fiery passion, and he doesn't like sleeping alone. He prefers to have someone to hold onto.  
Now, without his cat and his 'very dignified, very mature' nightlight, the two things he hated the most were happening.

"My offer still stands about the penguin thing!" He called into the pitch black gloom, hoping Paul would give in so that John would be able to get a good night's rest.  
Sighing, Paul sat up and hauled his mass of warmth with him, "Fine... But only because it's winter and the air conditioning is stuck. No funny business."  
John stared at Paul innocently.  
"I am a mature adult!" John feigned shock, "I would never partake in 'funny business'!"  
Paul sighed, "You laughed at the fact that our room number ends in 69. You may be a little older than me, but my six year old niece is more mature than you."  
John held up his hands in surrender, "Fine, you win." He scooted as close as he could to the wall, to allow space for Paul, who was gingerly crawling in like he was stepping on eggshells or really, really thin glass.

Paul attempted to put a pillow barrier between the two men, resulting in John destroying it promptly.  
"That defeats the whole purpose of transferring body heat, McCartney." He laughed.  
Paul sighed, putting the pillows back to their original positions.  
John inched closer to Paul, just enough so they still weren't touching, but John could still feel Paul's body heat.  
Paul sighed softly, "Wow... You are a human radiator."  
John grinned at him tiredly, "Told you."  
Turning around, Paul faced his back to John, scooting closer to him. John did the same, clinging tightly to the blankets and pressing his back against Paul's, drawing a small gasp from him.  
"Goodnight, Lennon," Paul whispered.  
" 'Night, McCartney."  
John stared out the wide window, into the starry abyss. Maybe this trip wasn't going to be so bad.  
***  
Comfortable warmth enveloped John as he stirred awake, the sun blinding him, even through closed eyes. He shifted further down into the heat, trying to fall back into the wonderful safety of sleep. Something was gently running though his hair, probably his cat.

Wait.

His cat wasn't there. He was on a business trip which meant...  
John jolted awake, realising the position he was in. That being, curled around Paul with his nose buried into his chest. Paul's arm was around John's shoulder, his fingers twirling around strands of auburn hair. John had no idea how he ended up like this, his arms firmly planted around Paul's waist and their legs interwoven. Not to mention, nearly everyone of the blankets was knocked into the floor.  
John carefully retracted his arms and legs. He slid out of the bed slowly, picking up the blankets and piling them back on the sleeping man.

Too much to deal with this early in the morning.  
John hobbled over to the bathroom, hunching over the sink and throwing icy water in his face.  
He turned to the alarm clock's flashing red digits. 8:22. Too early. No one should be awake before nine if they don't have to. John hated his internal clock.  
Running hands through his coppery hair, he tried everything in his power to not make it stick up. Man, I look rough, he thought as he stared at his reflection. His eyes were puffy and red, and his face was splotched pink.

John heard a slight groan and the squeaky springs moving from the other room.  
"Why are you up so early?" Paul complained, his voice still hoarse from sleep.  
"It's not that early," John defended, even though he knew that it was, in fact, far too early.  
Paul stretched a bit and stumbled around.  
"What time does breakfast start?"  
"8:30, I think."  
Paul tugged on socks and shoes, fixing his (still somehow perfect) hair.  
"C'mon then, John," he told him, gesturing at the clock, which now stood at 8:31, "If we get there first, we'll get better food."  
John wasn't really paying attention to what Paul was saying, instead, he stood in the doorway of the bathroom, grinning.  
Paul stopped blabbering for a moment to look at him.  
"What?"  
"Oh, nothing..." John inspected his nails, "Just that you actually called me by my first name."  
"Oh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Chapter two! I hope you guys liked it. Please comment your thoughts and feedback! Happy quarantine.  
> Peace and Love  
> Live Long and Prosper


	3. The Pillow War

Oh, right. Sorry about that, Lennon," Paul started, quickly fixing his mistake.  
"No! I wasn't complaining... It's just, you're always so professional. And it's a bit funny to have you, the mature, business-driven one, make the first slip up," John recovered, "Besides, it's two weeks, the least we can do is call each other by our first names... Paul."  
Paul stood with his shoes half put on and a bright red blush painted on his round cheeks.  
" 'm not that business driven," he mumbled, not daring to look John in the eyes.  
John smirked at him, "Sure, Paul. Sure."  
Paul blushed, his eyes briefly flicking up to meet John's.  
John couldn't help getting lost in Paul's hazel eyes. They seemed to be kaleidoscopic, always shifting colours in a strangely alluring way. His huge hazel eyes were framed with inhumanly long eyelashes that seemed to brush Paul's cheeks ever time he blinked.  
"C'mon, Lennon," Paul stated, clearing his throat and putting on his other shoe. "We've got food to eat."  
John shook himself out of his thoughts as he put on his own shoes.  
"Are you seriously wearing socks and sandals?" Paul sighed exasperatedly.  
John's gaze flicked down to his dirty socks sticking out of beaten up adidas sandals, "Yup! Have you got a problem with it?"  
"I have a million problems with it! SOCKS and SANDALS do NOT GO TOGETHER! Under LITERALLY any circumstance!"  
John put his hand over Paul's mouth, ignoring the tingling and heat that was coursing through it, "Shhhhh... There's people sleeping, Paul. Tsk, tsk."  
Paul scrunched up his nose and glared at John.  
Suddenly, a warm, wet substance lapped across John's palm.  
"EW! PAUL THAT IS DISGUSTING!" John yelled, immediately running over to the sink and washing his poor hand very thoroughly.  
Paul stood near the door, giggling excessively.  
"You- You should've seen your face!" He gasped out through laughs.  
Paul seemed to glow with a bright air of happiness and joy. John's stomach knotted up, probably because he was hungry.  
John grinned softly at the giggling boy, who was beaming with the power of a million suns.  
Paul slowly abated his laughter, his gaze meeting John's, "What?"  
John just smiled more, "I don't think this trip is gonna be so bad."  
Paul rolled his enticing eyes. "I think you're daft, Lennon."  
Chuckling, John opened the door and essentially pushed Paul out before following him shortly afterwards.  
***  
The rest of the day mainly consisted of Paul wandering around the room in search of better internet and John napping in various locations.  
"I swear that that's your tenth nap today, Lennon."  
John just shrugged, heaving his mass of blankets to the middle of the floor and promptly flopping on top of them, "I've got nothing else to do. And, this way, I won't be insanely sleep deprived when my sudden rush of ideas comes at two in the morning, because, for some reason, darkness and moonlight fuels the creative energy. Anyone knows that if you want to write a song about a walrus, eggs, and Tuesday's being stupid, the best time is the darkest part of the night, around two or three."  
Paul sighed, "That's oddly specific, but okay. Why do you have to lay in the exact middle of the room? Just to annoy me?"  
"Part of it. But mostly because I've napped on my bed, the couch, your bed, in the bathtub, under the window, in the closet, next to the dresser, under the table, and now I have to boldly sleep where no Lennon has slept before."  
Paul snorted, which, for some odd reason, made John tremendously happy, "Don't quote Star Trek when you're talking about having so little to do that you just nap all day. It disgraces the Federation and everyone at Starfleet."  
John grinned widely, "Well, now I know we have at least one thing in common."  
"What's that?" Paul asked, leaning foreword and propping his chin on his fist.  
"We're both fucking nerds." Paul fought down a snicker at John's deadpan.  
"Also, don't say that I've done nothing, when you've been trying to get a better reception for, like, five hours now." John told Paul, smirking.  
"I need to check on my dog!"  
"More like check on your Instagram," John mumbled.  
Paul reached for a pillow and flung it at John's head. John dodged and grabbed another one, grinning evilly at Paul.  
Laughter rang through the dilapidated, empty, old room as they pummelled each other with the ferocious softness that was a pillow.  
"You're gonna be sorry for this, McCartney!" John yelled, chasing after him.  
Paul jumped over the bed, cleverly using it as a shield, "I will be victorious!"  
Paul sprinted after John, holding a strangely coloured pillow in each hand. John let out a guttural battle cry and rammed at Paul.  
The collision was not elegant. It ended with tangled limbs, heavy breathing, and flushed faces. John was hovering over Paul. Paul was pressed between the rough old carpet and John Lennon. Neither one of them moved. John stared at Paul. Paul stared at John. They both hoped the other would move, while also secretly hoping that he wouldn't.  
The air soon became filled with thick tension.  
John inhaled a sharp breath of air, mumbling vaguely about how he should get back to what he was doing. Paul looked almost disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. Sorry, I've been sort of busy doing nothing.  
> Comments are appreciated. Incredibly appreciated.  
> Peace and Love  
> Live Long and Prosper


	4. John has feelings

A few days later, Paul was curled up in John's bed due to the broken heater. He seemed more comfortable than he had that first night. But still, neither of them dared to touch each other.   
Paul was essentially the only person John had talked to in days. Not that he was complaining, but John needed human contact. He needed to hold onto someone else and hug all of the air out of them. He couldn't exactly do that to Paul...  
No. He couldn't. Right?  
But still, nearly every night, he woke up with Paul curled up under him with John's head on Paul's soft chest.  
It was sort of nice.  
John DEFINITELY didn't enjoy it. He also definitely did not get fluttery feelings in his chest anytime Paul smiled at him. He definitely didn't look foreword to waking every morning with Paul snoring softly next to him. And he definitely wasn't attracted to Paul in the slightest. Nope. Not one bit.  
"John?"  
John nearly fell out of the bed, startled, "Y-Yeah?"  
"I can hear the gears in your head turning, it's distracting," Paul chuckled breathlessly. John shifted and threw an arm across Paul's back, not even thinking about what he was doing.  
"Sorry, Macca," he mumbled, burying his nose into the other's shoulder. Paul tensed up and recoiled slightly. John tightened his grasp.  
Because he needed to stay warm. No other reason.  
"John?"  
"Yeah?"  
Paul stayed quiet, relaxing into John's arms. He let out a soft sigh of content.  
***  
John tried to ignore the events of last night. But Paul made it impossible. If he didn't look so damn adorable all the time, things would probably be easier. If he didn't smile his sweet smile anytime John cracked a terrible joke, if he didn't do that strange dance anytime a song he liked came on, if he didn't lean into John when they sat on the couch together, if Paul went back to being the pompous asshole he had been last week, the world would be a better, more sane place.

"John?" Paul whispered the night after John had realised how he felt about the other man. "Are you still up?"  
John turned around, spotting Paul's luminous eyes in the pitch darkness of their hotel room.  
"Yeah..." He replied softly.  
"Oh..."  
John strained his eyes, trying to make out Paul's face. "Did you need something? I can scoot over, or give you more blankets, if that's what yo-"  
Paul put his hand over John's mouth. John could see the glint of his smile.  
"No, I'm okay, I was just thinking..."  
John pulled Paul's hand away from his mouth, not letting it go. Sparks seemed to fizzle in his fingers.  
"Dangerous pastime, y'know." Paul giggled slightly and John's stomach flipped.  
"What about?" John questioned further.  
"Oh, nothing."  
John scooted closer to him, "Are you sure?"  
Paul backed up, nearing the edge of the small mattress, "Y-Yeah..."  
"Positive?" John moved closer, grinning.  
Paul nodded, backing up even more.   
Paul let out a loud yelp as he slammed against the floor with a thump that rattled the walls.  
"John!" Paul exclaimed, "Why would you do that?!"  
John looked over the side of the bed and fixed his gaze on the vague, Paul-shaped outline.  
"You brought it on yourself, all I did was move towards you," John flopped onto his back and grinned his shit-eating grin as Paul huffed in false anger. Paul hit John with a pillow, straight in the nose.  
"Do you really wanna start that again?" John laughed, trying to shield his face with one hand and using the other to wrap around Paul's legs in attempt to make him fall.  
And, boy, did he fall.  
He fell straight on top of John, chest hitting the other's, faces pressed up against each other. It was terribly awkward, arms and legs flailing as Paul and John attempted to push each other away.  
By the time Paul had gotten off of John, they were both so deep into fits of laughter that they didn't notice the banging on the wall and the 'Quiet down! People are sleepin' 'ere!'

John sat with his legs dangling off the bed, Paul standing in front of him. They had turned a lamp on, and John soon regained the ability to breathe, Paul wasn't faring so well. He was doubled over in silent laughter, (the late hour was probably not helping his sanity), his hand anchored on John's exposed knee as support.  
Warmth flooded through John at the contact and Paul's utter joy at something that wasn't actually that funny. John wanted to grab the sides of Paul's beautiful flushed face and kiss him. But he couldn't do that, not yet anyway.  
He needed to woo Paul before actually doing anything. Unfortunately, Paul seemed to be VERY straight, so that plan was out.  
Pressure on the spot next to him jolted him from his thoughts.  
"What are you thinking about?" Paul asked softly, grinning at him.  
"You," John said, not even thinking, "Uh- I mean, how stupid you looked when you were laughing?" It came out as more of a question than John would've liked, but Paul just laughed and rested his head on John's shoulder.  
Yeah, John really had to do something about his dumb feelings.  
Operation Woo Paul is a-go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! And things are finally happening! I'm sorry, I couldn't make it any slower or I would die.  
> Peace and Love  
> Live Long and Prosper


	5. Chapter 5

"Paul?"  
"Yeah?"  
"You have pretty eyes."   
"Thanks, I've been told that a lot," Paul laughed, "I think they make me look like a girl."  
John sighed.

"Paul?"  
"What is it, John?"  
John scrambled his thoughts together, trying to find the perfect thing to say, "Your smile is wonderful."  
Paul rolled his stunning eyes, "Thanks?"  
John sighed again.

"Macca?" John called from his spot on the bed.  
"Yes, John?" Paul asked, not looking up from his phone.  
"I like you."  
Paul chuckled, his brilliant eyes meeting John's, "I like you, too. You're growing on me, Lennon."  
John literally confessed his love and Paul was oblivious.

Operation Woo Paul was failing. Paul took all of his clumsy flirting as compliments or jokes, and he leaned into all of John's touches.   
Sure, both John and Paul were very tactile, but Paul should've realised by now, after six whole days, that John was flirting with him.  
Well, duh, he's straight! John's brain screamed.

John decided to temporarily abort the mission, he didn't have the energy to deal with Paul's obliviousness. Instead, he curled up on the floor, his back leaning against the couch, a battered book in his grasp.  
Soft giggles jolted John from his DEEP concentration.  
"You realise that there's a couch, like, right behind you, yeah?"  
John glanced up at Paul through his thick glasses, "The floor's more comfortable."  
Paul smiled at him with a certain soft glint in his eyes that could only be described as fondness.  
"I like your glasses." John turned his attention away from the yellowing pages of his book.  
"Thanks, they help me see."  
Paul sat down next to him, crisscross applesauce style, his knees brushing against John's, "How come you never wear them?"  
John slid said glasses down to the tip of his prominent nose, "Cause they make me look stupid as hell." He went back to reading.  
Paul moved closer to him, "I think they look nice. On you, I mean. They're like Buddy Holly's."  
John shot him a small, quick smile.  
"D'you wanna go somewhere?" Paul asked suddenly.  
"There's nowhere to go," John pointed out, "And gas is too expensive here."  
"We can walk! And I'm sure we could just wander around a bit, find some kitschy stores, maybe find food..." Paul sighed, looking John full in the eyes, "I really need to get out. I'm so bored, and I usually go on runs, but I don't know this town well enough to the point where I feel like I'm not gonna get stabbed when I'm running."  
So THAT'S why he's so ripped, John thought.  
"Please, John? It'll just be an hour or two..."   
John tried to resist Paul's huge, brilliant doe eyes.  
He failed.  
"Fine," John sighed finally. Paul jumped up excitedly, making a dash for his coat and shoes.  
John slowly stood up, every bone in his body cracking. He followed Paul with a fond sigh.

"Fuck!" John exclaimed as the wind bit violently at his nose. Paul grinned at him. John instantly felt warmer, flooding with happiness. The cold was worth it if Paul kept smiling at him like that.  
"It's not that bad, Johnny," he laughed.  
Another wave of joy shot through John, "Johnny?"  
Paul's already flushed cheeks turned a deeper red, "Sorry, it just slipped out..."  
A huge smile overtook John's face, "I'd be fine if you said it again..."  
They exchanged a quick, flustered smile.  
Before too long, Paul was puffing warm breath onto his trembling hands and rapidly rubbing them together. His breath formed thick clouds in the sharp, crisp winter air.  
"You cold?"  
Paul shook his head, then paused, then spoke in a small voice, "Yeah..."  
John stopped walking and grabbed both of Paul's hands in his own. He rubbed his rough, warm hands around Paul's frozen ones.  
"I'm a radiator, remember?" John said at Paul's confused face. Paul smiled softly.  
John continued to walk, Paul dashing to catch up with him.  
Something tentatively brushed up against John's hand. He looked down, only to see Paul's gentle, thin fingers hitting his own too many times to be accidental. John intertwined their fingers with a secret, smug smile. Paul gave his hand a squeeze.  
John felt like he was going to explode.

"Oohh!" Paul exclaimed delightedly, "An antique shop! John, can we go in? Please?"  
John grinned at Paul as the other boy jumped up and down excitedly, squeezing John's hand tighter.  
"Fine," John laughed, "Come 'ead."   
The bell near the top of the door rang as John and Paul stepped inside, still hand in hand.  
The whole space of the shop couldn't have been much bigger than a half of a swimming pool. An old, dusty scent lingered in the dry air, shelves lining every wall. There was barely any space to walk.  
With a loss of pressure and heat in John's hand, Paul was gone. He had run to inspect the comic books and old portfolios of sheet music.   
John sighed fondly and began scanning through dilapidated, faded paintings. Once the dust had been wiped off, the pictures were stunning. Incredibly realistic, you could tell exactly where the light was coming from and see the texture in the subject matter. John looked to the next one. Violent reds and soft pinks of a sunset seemed to jump out at him. The ocean waves shimmered in the light of the painted on sun. John would've liked to go there. It looked peaceful.  
"Johnny!"  
Paul's melodic voice jolted him from his thoughts.  
"Yeah?"  
"Come over here!"  
John laughed, "Macca, I don't know where 'here' is!"  
There was a loud sigh, "Just follow my voice, you fucker!"  
"Language!"  
"John, the store is empty."  
John laughed once more, searching for the extraordinary man.  
He found him standing next to a beautiful guitar, staring at it like someone would stare at the love of their life.  
"Oh John, just look at it!"  
"Is that a Rickenbacker?" John questioned stepping so that he stood just behind Paul.  
Paul whirled around, grinning, "Yup! I'm surprised you know that, love."  
"'Course I know guitars! I play one for god's sake!"  
A shocked, but no less delighted, expression overtook Paul's face.  
"Really?"  
John nodded.  
"Well then, I guess I have to buy it so I can see if you're any good!"  
John chuckled, "We only have three days left here, if everything goes according to plan."  
Paul hooked a finger on John's chin and smirked, "Three days is a long time, Johnny."  
John had to use every inch of self control he had in order to not kiss Paul then and there.  
"Plus, did you see the weather alert?" Paul started, pulling away from John, "There might be a blizzard coming! Imagine that, us getting snowed in on a business trip. We would be bored out of our minds! Unless..." He gestured to the stunning guitar. John's fingers itched to play it.  
"How much is it?"  
Paul showed him the tag. It wasn't crazy expensive, but it certainly wasn't cheap.  
"Why do you care? I'm buying it, I just had to show you it before I bought it in case you didn't approve."  
"And what would you do if I didn't?"  
Paul tapped his chin thoughtfully, "I would buy it anyway."  
John laughed, his heart clenched at how wonderful Paul was. Man, I love him, John thought.  
Wait, what? No. John had been friends with him for barely over a week at this point. He couldn't be in love with him.  
"Wait!" Paul turned around suddenly, the guitar in his grasp.  
"What?"  
John felt his face heat up, "I wanna buy it. For you. As an apology for those years of being an asshole to you."  
Paul giggled, a sound that John wanted to put in a box and keep forever, "I was just as much an asshole to you, Johnny. You aren't going to buy me a guitar because you feel bad."  
John raised an eyebrow, "I don't feel bad! I'm trying to do something nice for you! Just let me be nice to you."  
"You're already nice enough! You keep me warm at night. And you kept my hands from freezing."  
"Holding your hand and buying you a guitar that you fangirled over are two completely different concepts," John insisted.  
"I'm gonna buy it. You drove me here, and you paid for gas."  
"The gas is covered by the company," John pointed out, "Just let me get it for you. Please."  
Paul sighed, reaching out to hand him the guitar. John nearly grabbed it, but Paul sprinted away to the register clutching the neck of the guitar in his soft, pale hands.  
"Paul! You wanker!"  
Paul's laughter echoed through the cramped space.  
John sauntered slowly over to the register, where Paul was chatting up a man younger than John and Paul.  
"Ah! So this is John!" The guy said.  
"How do you know my name?" John questioned, brows furrowing.  
"Paul, here, told me. Also, you guys talk really loudly and this store is boring." He laughed, his dark eyes shining under thick eyebrows.  
"Aren't you a little young to be working at an antique shop?"  
The guy laughed again, "My dad owns it, so instead of going to college, I get to keep his terrible business afloat. What are you guys doing in a tiny town like this?"  
"Business trip," John and Paul answered simultaneously. John blushed, briefly glancing over at the taller man.  
"Does it have something to do with that library they're building?"  
They both nodded.  
"We get to interview the people. John is brilliant with words, and I'm good with people," John blushed further at Paul's words.  
"I'm pretty sure if you compliment John one more time, he's going to explode," the   
guy chuckled.  
Paul looked at John and grinned, "John, you've got a nice face."  
John's stomach knotted as he turned away and buried his face in his scarf.  
Paul and the register guy laughed jovially.  
"Thanks for that..." Paul paused searching for register guy's name.  
"George, George Harrison."  
"Thanks, George."  
"Yeah, thanks George," John spat jokingly, "Since you embarrassed me, Macca, now I get to buy your guitar for you."  
Paul shook his head, "That's terrible reasoning, love."  
John grinned, "Its brilliant reasoning and you know it."  
Paul rolled his eyes, "I don't need your charity, Lennon."  
"It's not charity if it's a gift! What don't you understand about that, McCartney?"  
John turned to George, who was grinning and somehow summoned popcorn into his hands. John knew better than to ask.  
"George, just take my money," John pleaded, throwing his card onto the counter.  
"No, George, don't. He's evil. He wants to buy the Rickenbacker so he can take it back when he decides he hates me again."  
John turned to Paul, "I would never take back a gift!" He spoke again softly, "I never hated you."  
Paul shrugged, "Everyone does, it's no big deal."  
John felt a tug on his heart, empathy for the man.  
"I hate to break up this, frankly adorable, heart to heart, but I'm gonna take John's money because he has a better argument and probably a better motive." George winked at John.  
Paul huffed, but gave John a small smile.  
George set the guitar in its beaten up case and handed it, along with John's card, back to the men.  
"I really hope you guys come back, it's boring in here. I also hope you invite me to your wedding."  
John and Paul exchanged a quick, slightly horrified glance.  
"Oh no-"  
"We're not-"  
"What?" George asked, "Out yet?"  
"Not a couple," John swallowed. Paul nodded.  
"No actually, we're just good friends."   
George sighed, "If you say so..."  
"Bye, George!"  
"Bye, lovebirds!" John's cheeks heated up, Paul laughed.  
John and Paul walked out, the guitar swinging between them.  
The sunset lit Paul's face up. It looked like flames lapping at his cheeks, his eyes blazed softly and warmly. John wanted to kiss him for the third or fourth time that day. He barely even cared about the wind biting at his nose and making his eyes water. As long as Paul was by his side, he was probably going to be okay. He just hoped it wouldn't end up like his other relationships, if he did manage to somehow woo Paul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was long! And we might be getting somewhere soon. Sorry, it was kind of choppy and rushed.


	6. Guitars, Pizza, and Lord of The Rings

Paul flopped onto the couch, grinning at John.  
"Let's see if you can actually play."  
John scoffed, "Course I can play! I'll play a song right now... Any requests?"  
Paul tapped his chin thoughtfully, "Something you wrote. I wanna see if you're any good."  
Cheeks dusted in a soft rosy pink, John picked up the guitar, "Here's something I- uh- wrote a little bit ago." He began to strum softly, "There are places I'll remember, all my li-ife though some have changed." He looked briefly up at Paul, who was grinning and staring at him expectantly.  
He shifted the guitar up and continued, "Some forever, not for better. Some have go-one and some remain. All these places have their moments with lovers and friends, I still can recall. Some are dead, and some are living... In myyy life, I've loved them all."  
He played at short riff, "But of all these friends and lovers, there is no-oo one compares with you. And these memories lose their meaning when I thi-ink of love as something new. Though I know I'll never lose affection for people and things that went before. I know I'll often stop and think about them. In myyy life, I'll love you more."  
He played the riff again, staring at Paul straight in the kaleidoscope eyes.  
"In myyyy life, I'll love you more."

Paul clapped, grinning ecstatically, "God, Johnny! Why didn't you tell me you could sing and play like that, and bloody WRITE like that! Are you sure that you made that up?"  
John nodded, slightly annoyed that his love confession went over Paul's beautiful head. Again.  
"Yeah, I'm positive I wrote that," John sighed with a mildly annoyed smile, "Now, your turn." He thrust the guitar into Paul's hands. Paul stared at him for a moment, mildly confused at the fact that there was suddenly a guitar in his hands. He shifted his fingers to the right frets and raised his arm to strum.  
John furrowed his brows, "You've got it upside down," he pointed out abruptly.  
Paul rolled his doe-like eyes, "I'm a leftie."  
"Oh."  
Paul raised his arm and strummed, breaking out into 'Blue Suede Shoes,' complete with stunning vocals and excessive head shakes.  
By the time he was done, John's face hurt from smiling so wide. Paul smiled bashfully at him, a blush forming on his cheekbones.  
John fought hard against a snicker, but failed. He giggled until his face was red and his stomach hurt.  
Paul glared at the laughing man, "Why're you laughing at me?" He demanded, sounding like a five year old.  
" 'M not laughing at- at you, Macca," John breathed through laughs, "I'm laughing at the fact that I played this soulful, lovesick ballad that I wrote, and then you played- You played fuckin' Elvis!" His eyes watered with amusement and delight as he continued to laugh his ass off. (That's a technical term).  
Paul crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, "It's not that funny..."  
"No," John agreed, "It's just that I haven't talked to anyone besides you for two weeks now and I'm amused very easily at this point in time."  
"What about George?"  
John waved a dismissive hand, "He doesn't count."  
Paul had learned by now not to argue with John's (nonsensical) logic. So he didn't.

"John?" Paul asked after a while of lounging about, "Johnny?!"  
John looked up from his book, glasses slipping down to the tip of his nose.  
"What Macca?" He sighed.  
"I'm hungry," he stated.  
John put the book down and sat next to (on top of) Paul, "And what would the princess like to eat?" He said, pressing his chest against him and throwing both arms around Paul's neck, pulling him closer. The plan was working. Blotchy red covered all of the skin that was visible to John. Paul didn't dare move. John had him trapped between the corner of the couch and John himself, who was practically straddling him. Paul swallowed thickly. John could hear and feel every breath in the tense silence. He didn't know where this sudden confidence came from, but he wished it would happen more often.  
His mouth was right there! All John had to do was lean forward an inch. Just and inch. That's all he had to do...

But he didn't.  
"How about pizza?" John asked nonchalantly, climbing off of Paul, who was still frozen in place with an astonished look on his flustered face. "Paul?"  
Paul blinked rapidly, the blush fading from his- all of him, "Y-yeah... Pizza... Pizza's fine."  
John smirked at him and winked. The blush was back on Paul's face.  
John smiled to himself as he went on the Dominos website and ordered a pizza.  
"You're vegetarian, right?" He questioned.  
Paul nodded rapidly, finally able to move again.  
John nodded in understanding, smirking at Paul again.  
Paul coughed and stood up, refusing to acknowledge the previous events.  
Clicking order on his phone, John shut it off and put it in his pockets, "Now we wait."  
He looked up at Paul, "Any ideas about what we should do?"  
A dangerous gleam appeared in John's dark eyes. Paul didn't like it, "Not especially..."  
John grinned, strutting towards the taller man, "I've got a thought..."  
Paul realised too late that he was being backed up against the wall.  
"O-Oh yeah? What's that?"  
Paul's back hit the horribly painted wall. John's hands were on either side of his head.  
John leaned forward, his nose brushing against Paul's.  
"Lord of The Rings marathon," he whispered, grinning.  
Paul let out a sigh, "We don't have a way to watch Lord of the Rings."  
John grinned, "Bold of you to assume I don't have all three movies downloaded on my computer."  
Paul let out a dry chuckle. John stared at him for a moment, making the other man mildly nervous.  
He pressed his lips lightly against Paul's. The doorbell rang.  
"Pizza's here," John grinned, seemingly unfazed that he just kissed Paul.  
Paul stood in shock, touching his own lips lightly.  
John kissed him.  
John kissed him and Paul was pretty sure he enjoyed the short moment.

"Paul?" John called, "C'mon, we've got upwards of ten hours to watch."  
Paul shook his thoughts out of his head.  
"Yeah, sorry John, love. I'm coming."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive. I'm alive and back with a strange chapter with an odd omniscient point of view.  
> Oh also, things finally happened. Isn't that lovely?  
> Peace and Love  
> Live Long and Prosper  
> (save the Texas prairie chicken)


	7. Authors note

Sorry about that last chapter! It was rushed and choppy. I’m going to rewrite it so that it’s better and more fluid. Thanks for reading it, however terrible it may be.

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyy... What's up? I came up with this at like two in the morning. I'm going to add more chapters.  
> Peace and Love  
> Live Long and Prosper


End file.
